Chapter VII

Chapter VII. Looking Back Over 40 Years

When looking back some forty years or more, what a vista of progress presents itself. We are much indebted to those who sacrificed their time and mental energies in assisting to build up this magnificent country upon a sound, sane, and I trust, permanent foundation. In a young country only very partly developed, with scarcely a tradition to back up its history, it becomes a most pleasant and enjoyable occupation to recall some of the public doings of many old colonists who were so well known as intellectual giants, men whose names may well be written high up on the scroll of fame. The pity is that so many of them have passed into the Beyond and their public activities have been forgotten. As the Immortal Bard writes of the Capulets of old: —

'Who, when having left the stage, The eyes of men become idly bent On him that enters next.'

And so it is somewhat refreshing to call to mind from gallery notes some incidents relating to the doings of certain of our legislators that have been long since either pigeon-holed or, owing to the lapse of time, almost forgotten.

In my day there were two ex-Ministers of the Crown who prided themselves on being the greatest and most brilliant orators in South Australia. They never failed to advertise these opinions. It so happened, that having failed to retain their Parliamentary seats, they were sympathetically and severally appointed as secretaries to two Parliamentary Commissions. The two Commissions, while taking evidence, happened to meet for the week-end at a large country town, and, knowing the ambitious aspirations of the two secretaries, the members of the Commissions determined to give them an opportunity on the Sunday afternoon of proving which should be acclaimed the greater orator. The members of the two Commissions were to be the final judges. Each aspirant was to speak on a subject agreed upon for twenty minutes. The secretaries were delighted to fall in with the suggestion, both appeared in good form, and spoke for the full twenty minutes. The judges took (by pre-arrangement) an unusually long time to arrive at a decision. The verdict eventually arrived at was that each speaker had gained precisely the same number of points, and accordingly both were acclaimed equal in oratory. The irony of fate fell on both with crushing effect, and it was afterwards remarked that neither of them ever recovered from the shock.

Once when the member for X was delivering an important speech, embellishing it with occasional Latin quotations, a young member of the House of Assembly had the temerity to interject. He was informed by the Speaker that he was addressing 'the cultured and educated members of the House, and not the neophytes.' Our sympathies were with the so-called neophytes.

Some Early Speeches

On another occasion a new member, making his maiden speech, informed the House that he had heard of some queer things having been done there in the past, but now that he was one of its members, he would see that no more such tiddle-winking occurred.

Talking of maiden speeches, a new member, who afterwards became a clever and highly respected Minister of the Crown, in making his first speech, became 'stage struck,' being lost for a suitable word. The House, as it invariably did, generously sympathised and cheered a while. The required word was soon recalled to mind by the speaker, and a most effective speech was the result.

At another time in the old Assembly Chamber— now the Parliamentary library — a member who usually prepared extensive notes to draw his inspiration from whilst addressing the House, catching the eye of the Speaker, rose, opened his drawer to obtain his notes, and to his consternation found they had disappeared. A fellow mem ber had playfully removed them. The cream of the jest was that it cured the member or preparing extensive notes for future orations.

In those days it was quite irregular for members to read their speeches. Standing Orders did not permit a member to read from either a printed newspaper or from a book the report of any speech made in Parliament during the same session. I wonder if the same rule is still observed.

I remember, too, how a friend of mine who once visited England, being a bit of a politician, wended his way to the House of Commons. From the 'Strangers' Gallery' listened attentively to some of the leaders of the day addressing the House. Someone informed him that Gladstone invariably most carefully prepared his speeches, read them through three times, made headline notes therefrom, and after reading these three times, three simple headings on the back of an envelope, and, discarding his copious notes, trusted mainly to inspiration and memory when speaking. Returning to Australia and subsequently entering Parliament, my friend decided to adopt Gladstone's plan. Gladstone, of course, was a brilliant speaker. My friend, however, not being able to claim mental equality with so great a man, was compelled to have frequent recourse to his copious notes, and so not being blessed with a forceful inspiration, his subject matter left much to be desired.

Reporters' Revenue

Long speeches were of frequent occurrence, one member being credited with one of over eight hours' duration, the longest, I believe, recorded in South Australia. It was said, however, that the effort saved the State some £10,000. That same member had to his credit the shortest speech ever made in the House of Assembly.

It has been said that 'Hansard' does not always contain a true and faithful report of the speeches delivered by members. On one occasion a complaint was made by a member that he had not been correctly reported. The next time he addressed the House he was reported verbatim. There in black and white was the absence of good grammar, and the presence of bad pronunciation. That member never again crossed swords with the reporters in the gallery!

On one occasion a certain member, when speaking on some important subject, occupied two hours or more, much to his own satisfaction. Later in the day he met a reporter of the 'Hansard' staff. 'How did I get on this afternoon?' queried the member. 'Well,' said the reporter, 'we all thought your speech was a bit dis jointed and your points disconnected.' 'Ah! That accounts for it,' was the reply. 'I mislaid two foolscap sheets of my notes, but have since found them. I want you to fit them into the report of my speech.' It is said that the request was complied with.

In days gone by, keen satire was freely indulged in by members, but abuse was of rare occurrence. Satire was in variably more effective. A member had been closely criticising the actions of the then Premier on a certain occasion. The Premier, when replying, said, "The member, when speaking, reminded him of a Shakespearian quotation, 'You are the hare of whom the proverb goes; whose valor plucks dead lions by the beard.' "

I suppose that every one of us is a plagiarist in some form or other; especially so are public speakers. There is, however, a wide difference between borrowing and stealing from other men's brains. On one occasion — I think it was when the Government of the day introduced a measure to provide for free education a certain member made what was considered by his fellow members to be a most eloquent and learned speech. Unfortunately for the speaker, it was discovered that the greater portion of his oration was an almost verbatim copy of an article that had appeared in a recent issue of the 'Westminster Gazette' on Free Education. Of course, the fault of the member lay in leading the House and the public to believe that he was the originator of the views that he had given expression to, instead of acknowledging the source from which they had been drawn.

Election Promises

A short time ago it was noticed that one of our leading politicians had admitted that many men in Parliament would not be there had they not promised the electors many impossible things. That reminded me of an incident said to have occurred, not far from Adelaide. A candidate, addressing the electors, made promises galore of what would be done if he were re turned as a member. After the meeting a friend said to him, 'My word, Jack, some of those promises you made tonight were a bit over the fence. It would be quite impossible for you to carry them out should you be lucky enough to get in.' The reply the candidate made was, 'Yes, I know that. All I want is to get in and collar the £400 a year and perks. It will be a jolly sight better than the job I am at now. I don't care a ripe damson for the promises, nor the fools who believe me.' I am bound to admit that many candidates for Parliament are credited with suffering from this disease, commonly known as 'promissory palavering.' I believe no cure has yet been discovered for it.

I was present at a meeting some years ago when a candidate, after making an earnest appeal for support, concluded by saying, 'Gentlemen, you all know me well, and any promises I make I shall honestly endeavor to carry out. I can only make one more promise, and that is, if my good wife blesses me with twins, all your wives shall be similarly rewarded.' The electors did not apparently approve of the suggestion.

It is now seriously suggested that this so-called vote-catching is to be discountenanced and abolished— until, I presume, some future political campaign. It would strain the mental capacity of Euclid to prove how this could be done. 'Wait and see,' says the man in the street. [We are still waiting ! - Ed.]

Speaking of electioneering, I am reminded of one or two amusing incidents. A certain candidate was addressing a crowded meeting of electors, and as usual questions were being freely submitted. His replies did not altogether meet with the approval of an elector who demanded a straight-out 'Yes' or 'No' to some of his questions. The candidate endeavored to explain how difficult it was, without a little consideration, to give a straight-out 'Yes' or 'No.' This did not satisfy the elector. 'Well,' said the candidate, 'will Mr. give an answer, straight out, of 'Yes or no' to any question put to him?' 'Yes, I will,' said he. 'Then I will ask him if he has ceased thrashing his wife, yes or no.' It is said that the two of them were far from bosom friends for some time afterwards.

On another occasion, a candidate had prepared a speech for delivery at the first meeting of his political campaign, and had committed to memory the first one or two sentences. He commenced by addressing the electors in the usual orthodox manner, then paused, coughed, and paused again. Away at the rear of the hall, a voice interjected, 'Lost your place mate?' The candidate again perused his bundle of notes. The audience sympathetically cheered, which only intensified the difficult situation. Forgetting for the time the salient points he had in tended to refer to, the speaker wound up with an irrelevant, comic recitation.

On still another occasion, a candidate was asked by an elector, if he favored the Government encouraging the establishment of central creameries through the colony. His reply was, 'Yes, certainly, I would advocate and support, the erection of crematoriums at every favorable centre.'

Posting The Interjectors

Before party lines were clearly defined all candidates, whatever views they held, addressed the electors from the same platform, on the same night. Crowded and noisy meetings frequently resulted, although much can be said in favor of this custom. At one meeting held near the waterfront, a certain candidate did not receive the warm reception accorded his rival, who was extremely popular. After the meeting this candidate (who by the way, was being supported by the Trades and Labor Council) remarked, that unfortunately for him, his party had omitted to make arrangements to disconcert and give a bad time to the opposing candidate. He said the plan adopted was to place one of their supporters in each of the four corners of the hall, and by constantly interjecting, prevent opponents from getting a good hearing. It may have been true or not. But on two separate occasions, I have witnessed this apparent 'modus operandi,' lead to the discomfiture of several of the speakers. I believe that an Act has since been passed regulating the conduct of public meetings, and so preventing such tactics.

Cartoons were very much in evidence in the '90's. Papers like the 'Quiz' and the 'Lantern' became popular, and revelled in satire, when referring to many public men of the day. Amongst the many copies I remember seeing was a full paged cartoon depicting a horse whose head was likened to the face and head of the then Premier. The horse was heavily laden with huge bundle and packages all strapped on. These were supposed to represent 'The Country Party,' 'The £60,000 Deficit,' 'The new Pastoral Bill,' 'Retrenchment,' 'A thousand a year,' 'The Labor Party,' &c. The leader of the Opposition smoking a cigar, is standing by and watching. Addressing a certain gallant major, said he 'What are our numbers?' The reply came, 'We are three short of a majority.' Then said the Opposition leader, 'I'll not attempt to release him from his obligation to carry the burden.' And he did not do so just then.

Another cartoon depicted two members of the Ministry walking together in Hindley street. At the time there was a popular play on at the Theatre Royal, and at the entrance was a huge poster, describing the play, 'The Liars.' The Ministers were portrayed just as they were passing the poster. This cartoon was a bit unkind.

'Echoes from the Smoking Room,' and 'Under the Speaker's Eye,' were also fairly critical, and at times some what severe on members, but as all public men are well in the limelight, and usually desire to keep there, they do not object to such criticism. I am inclined to believe that it is greatly to their advantage to be pilloried occasionally, and to 'see themselves as others see them.'

Unreported Incidents

Unreported incidents of more that ordinary interest were of frequent occurrence. During a heated debate on the extension of the far northern railway, there were free exchanges of personalities. One placid and philosophical member be came so irritated that whilst another member was addressing the House, he shouted, 'I call you a thing, and would like to have ten minutes with you outside.' This outburst of ill feeling, however, did not last long. Just, a lawyer's fall out, to last until it became necessary to have what is termed 'a refresher.'

All politicians are supposed to be bosom friends on whatever side of the House they happen to be. Of course there have been some exceptions. There were two members, who for over eighteen months scarcely exchanged a word. There came a political crisis, and the Opposition required two or more votes to secure the defeat of the Ministry. If the two estranged ones could heal their differences and coalesce, success would be theirs. Collaborations were suggested, and joint promises of Ministerial office made. 'K. P.'s Balsam of Affection' was then applied. The long standing wounds were healed, and within a short time the Ministerial benches were adorned by the erstwhile inveterate political enemies. It is a veritable truism that politics make strange bedfellows.

Even today these coalitions are not infrequent. In 1888 the late Right Hon. C. C. Kingston and the writer were on a visit to Sydney, and spent an evening in the Legislative Assembly listening to a heated discussion on the construction of a railway to Broken Hill, via Wilcannia. A Mr. M—— called a Mr. McE—— a 'liar,' resulting a few minutes later in a stand up fight in one of the lobbies, when the latter member was rather severely punished. I cannot recall to remembrance any such unseemly occurrence within our own Legislative halls.

Of course, the word 'liar' is quite unparliamentary in South Australia. But during a warm debate in the Legislative Council on one occasion a member remarked that the mover of a certain motion reminded him of 'A harp hanging from a willow tree, that had been struck by lightning.' Those present enjoyed the simile, not for the moment interpreting its meaning. Later an apology was demanded.

A deservedly popular member of the House who at the time happened to hold the rank of sergeant in the S.A. Military Forces, was addressing a large audience in advocacy of Federation. 'And now I come,' said he, 'to the advantages so far as national and united defences are concerned; but I approach the subject with bated breath, seeing that on my right is my honorable and gallant friend (the writer), who occupies a much higher position in the Military Forces than I do. With only three stripes I can not be expected to explain in detail the many advantages to be derived under Federation from a military viewpoint as correctly as he can.' His address, however, was masterful, effective and deservedly applauded. In moving a vote of thanks to the speaker, I jocularly referred to the sergeant as having only three stripes, and added, that if I had had my way, I would have readily accorded him thirty and three— politically speaking of course. The versatile sergeant in responding said, 'Ladies and gentlemen, much is being said just now about the visit to our shores of the American Fleet with its unfurled flag of the Stars and Stripes. I don't mind telling you just in a whisper that if my inclination had at times been rewarded, my gallant friend would not only have received the maximum of stripes, but made to see stars as well.' The double joke was most heartily enjoyed.

Towards the close of each session of Parliament it was customary to play a cricket match, Parliament v. Press, and also to indulge in a luncheon, the losers to pay for the feast. In December, 1888, the Parliamentary team was badly beaten: — Parliament. 93; Press, 144. Only three of the Parliamentarians got into double figures. They were E. W. Hawker 27, J. W. Castine 25, A. McDonald 18. The remaining eight made a poor show. And for the Press, A. T. Chandler made 88 runs, and W. B. Carr 51, both not out; byes 5— total 144. So it was determined to declare a win for the Press team without any further leather hunting. In December, 1892, however, Parliament put a somewhat stronger team in the field determined to score a win, and success attended their efforts:— Parliament, 158; Press, 97. This time seven out -of the eleven got into double figures, viz.:— J. Lake 28, J. W. Castine 23, B. Gould 24, C. C. Kingston 22, A. McDonald 16, V. L. Solomon 11, T. H. Brooker 22. And for the Press:—C. B. Moody 36, A. H. Angel 14, C. A. E. Elliott 16, W. Redin 13, D. J. Gordon 6, J. R. Powell 8, the remaining five men only adding three to the score. That generous and enthusiastic lover of cricket, Sir Edwin Smith, usually presented a bat to the highest scorer on each side. It is sad to record that of of the twenty-two members of Parliament who played in these two matches, twenty have passed away. The only two who are alive today are Mr. E. W. Hawker and myself.

Politicians are not always credited with being perfect Christians. I remember many years ago an intimate friend of mine, conversing with the head of one of the then leading whole-sale firms. After the usual courtesies the merchant remarked that it was always a pleasure to have a chat with an almost perfect Christian, My friend naturally asked, 'Why not say a perfect Christian?' 'No, no,' was the reply. 'Being a politician and member of Parliament, makes it impossible for you to be a perfect Christian.' One wonders if this can be true!

THE END.